Not horrible ... a historical reconstruction of the Battle of Hastings.
Photograph: Jack Taylor/Getty Images

I knew I should have worn thermal underwear. My steel helmet was itchy. My uniform smelled like the last fella who died in it did so via Lynx Africa asphyxiation. Reports had come in that the resistance were using carrier pigeons to communicate Nazi troop movements to the Allies. I dragged the resistance fighter and his pigeon down the alleyway, made him get on his knees and I shot him. Then I shot his pigeon for good measure. Or, at least, I pretended to. The budget didn’t stretch to blank rounds, so, as the camera focused on me, I sort of donkey-kicked the rifle into my shoulder.

“Nice acting,” said the director. And, for a moment, I believed him.

With this in mind, you can imagine how disappointed I was to hear that Mary Beard had labelled historical reconstruction actors as “none-too-good”. Putting aside my personal ambition to play one of the big dogs of the dramatised history world (Elizabeth I? I’m game), it seems unfair for Beard to malign the whole practice of bringing a historical documentary to life using actors.

For starters: as a kid, I loved watching them. Like comic-book Shakespeare or science-by-stealth cartoons, historical reconstructions made something that could seem dull feel more immediate. The Horrible Histories TV seriesgathers awards like Napoleon did soldiers on his return from Elba (I just missed out on that gig – “not French enough”).

As an actor, it’s more than just a useful source of revenue in a dwindling profession, where only a tiny, familiar-looking cohort can say they work full time. Last year, I played a first world war journalist in a pan-European documentary about the armistice and the seeds of European fascism. Granted, I messed up my lines – but, for the entire crew, there was no more important time to be making this documentary, accessible to so many, with walking, talking characters.

So, if it means “B-list actors dressed up in sheets”, I’m all for it. At least Beard called us “B-list”.